“Give yourself a chance if you do. We
can go too far in our sacrifice for others—.”
He resumed his brisk professional manner. “In
the meantime you’ve a rather sick old gentleman
on your hands. You’d better get a nurse.”

CHAPTER VII

HILDA

The argument came up at breakfast two days before
Thanksgiving. It was a hot argument. Jean
beat her little hands upon the table. Hilda’s
hands were still, but it was an irritating stillness.

“What do you think, Daddy?”

“Hilda is right. There is no reason why
we should go to extremes.”

“But a turkey—.”

“Nobody has said that we shouldn’t have
a turkey on Thanksgiving—­not even Hoover.”
Hilda’s voice was as irritating as her hands.

“Well, we have consciences, Hilda. And
a turkey would choke me.”

“You make so much of little things.”

“Is it a little thing to sacrifice our appetites?”

“I don’t think it is a very big thing.”
The office bell rang, and Hilda rose. “If
I felt as you do I should sacrifice something more
than things to eat. I’d go over there and
nurse the wounded. I could be of real service.
But you couldn’t. With all your big ideas
of patriotism you couldn’t do one single practical
thing.”

It was true, and Jean knew that it was true, but she
fired one more shot. “Then why don’t
you go?” she demanded fiercely.

“I may,” Hilda said slowly. “I
have been thinking about it. I haven’t
made up my mind.”

Dr. McKenzie glanced at her in surprise. “I
didn’t dream you felt that way.”

“I don’t think I do mean it in the way
you mean. I should go because there was something
worth doing—­not as a grandstand play.”

She went out of the room. Jean stared after
her.

The Doctor laughed. “She got you there,
girlie.”

“Yes, she did. Do you really think she
intends to go, Daddy?”

“It is news to me.”

“Good news?”

He shook his head. “She is a very valuable
nurse. I should hate to lose her.”
He sat for a moment in silence, then stood up.
“I shouldn’t hold out for a turkeyless
Thanksgiving if I were you. It isn’t necessary.”